


Little Shop of Horrors

by washoveryou (orphan_account)



Category: Little Shop of Horrors, Not a Crossover - Fandom, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Not a Crossover, i just replaced the little shop characters w snk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2402210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/washoveryou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heavily based off the musical film directed by Frank Oz released in 1986, as well as the original Little Shop of Horrors film from the 1960's, is the re-imagined story of a clumsy, boisterous, vaguely bitter young man named Jean Kirschtein who falls in love with his beautiful and intelligent co-worker, Marco Bodt, who struggles with depression (though not mentioned in this work, it plays an important part in the character's back-stories, and is therefore included in this description) and an abusive boyfriend.</p>
<p>But when botanist, adoptive mother, and shop owner of Mrs. Zoe's Skid Row Florist Shop, Hanji Zoe, is struggling with money, and she sees no other way to go but to sell the store, Jean pulls out the big guns. And by big guns, he of course means a strange, exotic plant he named "Marco Junior" which both he and Marco believe will help attract business. Indeed it does, but as the night nears, Jean soon learns the dark secret lurking behind the plant: It eats HUMANS! Hijinks, death, love, and sorrow soon devour them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue + Skid Row (Downtown)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wisteria](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082182) by [butterflychansan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflychansan/pseuds/butterflychansan). 



> In the spirit of Halloween nearing (and also because Little Shop is brilliant) I decided to do this thing here.
> 
> When I say "Heavily based off of..." I really mean it. It's practically the same thing in the beginning. Except when I make it all my own and wow you are gonna be a lump of flesh and emotion on the floor by the time I'm done with you, sir.
> 
> DISCLAIMER FOR BIG, CORPORATE MEANIES:  
> I do not own Little Shop or SNK, no matter how much I wish I did. So. Anything taken from those two things is not mine. AND I don't make a profit off of this, no matter how much I need to. AND please don't sue me. Kthxbye.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shing'a'ling/What a creepy thing to be happening
> 
> +
> 
> ...So I live/(Downtown)/That's you're home address ya live/(Downtown)/When your life's a mess ya live/(Downtown)/Where depression's just status quo/(Down on Skid Row)

September 23rd was a rainy, dreary day. The streets of downtown Skid Row were dripping with grime and what could only be described as "the absence of life". Drunkards and whores walked mindlessly. Workers turned at the same corners and took the same buses they had every day before. The city was constantly in motion, sometimes slowing down but never coming close to stopping. The buildings stuck from the ground like solid, wild, unruly weeds.

Crime had no place on front pages or for "Breaking News!" stories. People who did good things were praised in ways that would seem excessive to outsiders.

There was a collective gloom on Skid Row. An impenetrable gloom. Well, almost impenetrable.

Everything was toxic, the people were simply static. You lived to find the end. Or you made the end come to you. Either way, Skid Row was a way out. But you only got to leave once.

This was no place for anyone who wasn't born here.

This was no place for anyone, truly.

Jean Kirschtein knew this. His boss knew this. The whole of Skid Row chanted it in place of singing or telling stories or whatever the hell normal people spent their time doing.

In Skid Row, you shut up and grew up real quick, or you got sucked under everything and lived off of cheap wine and fresh garbage. Though, this seemed to happen anyway, for most.

Everything was pissing Jean off, but he refused to be upset. Absolutely refused.

Outsiders could joke and say, "Oh, but Skid Row has it's beauties!" but never could they be more wrong. The only beautiful thing to have ever graced Skid Row was Marco Bodt. Bright, darling, sweet, generous, perfect, (the list goes on), Marco Bodt. With the most adorable freckles and the friendliest smile.

Jean would be lying to himself if he denied Marco the appropriate attentions. When it came to beauty and kindness, Marco was too good for any human, too good for Skid Row, too good for Earth. He deserved gods and goddesses and got no more than their holy shits, a fact that Jean had no qualms being upset about.

Skid Row was Skid Row, but if there were ever a better day for that to change...


	2. Da Doo + Grow For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, do you remember that total eclipse of the sun about a week ago?
> 
> +
> 
> I've given you plant food/And water to sip/I've given you pot ash/You've given me zip/I'm begging you sweetly/I'm down on my knees/Oh, please!/Grow for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. This is were everything starts. This is where everything is cute. All of it is cute, but especially this.

On September 23rd, once the rain had cleared early that morning, Marco walked into Ms. Zoe's Skid Row Florist shop to find Jean surrounded by potting soil and a scattered array of seeds, dust pan and broom in hand, and knew that this day was probably going to be worse than yesterday. And if his newly sported black eye was anything to go by, it was going to hurt.

Never did he expect the following two things to happen:

1) Hanji being unhappy.

The second Marco got to the back room to put his stuff down, and being scorned for coming to work late again, Hanji was fussing over his eye and cursing the day that that Riener Piece-of-Trash, son of rotten tomatoes and orange jumpsuits, was born. Marco managed to calm Hanji down, fleeing at the sound of Jean's exasperated sighs to go help him.

"Hello, Marco!" Jean said cheerfully, dumping his dust pan into the garbage can and spilling some onto the hardwood floor as he watched Marco walk toward him.

"Hey, Jean," Marco waved, hoping against hope that Jean wouldn't comment on his shiner.

"You look radiant today," Jean said.

Marco took a deep, grateful breath. "Thank you, Jean."

Marco took the cleaning supplies from him and got to work. A few quiet moments passed as Marco finished up, Jean watching him intently. "I hope it doesn't hurt," Jean said a moment later, concerned but not pushing. Marco always admired this about Jean--he cared. He really cared, but he understood where to cut off his concerns, even if he disagreed. Marco's back stiffened nevertheless.

"No, not at all." Marco gave Jean a small smile.

Jean nodded curtly, pushing the can back near the cash register and almost knocking it over. Marco shook his head, chuckling. Jean blushed.

"Boys, I have something to tell you!" Hanji called bitterly from the back room, walking out with the keys to her back room locker in her hands. "I'm selling the shop." No pause for dramatic effect, no flash in her eyes; just a low, mulled, liquid voice sounding more deeply hurt than any of the bruises on Marco's body could ever equate to.

Marco could hear Jean's heart drop; felt the thud within himself, even. The fear and shock in Jean's eyes made Marco's chest tighten.

"No, Hanji. No." Jean was shaking his head, and Marco wasn't sure if Jean was going to cry--it wasn't like he ever had cried around Marco, but the day had been eventful, full of surprises, and it wasn't even nine in the morning. As far as Marco could tell, anything could happen.

2) Being wrong.

Jean was going to cry, and he kept looking at Marco as if he expected Marco to perform some miracle. Jean and Hanji been arguing for at least half an hour, and Marco felt like crying himself.

So Marco did what he did best: He pulled a completely unorthodox solution out of his goddamned gaping asshole and prayed to God it worked because Jean didn't look good when he frowned and worried his lip to keep from crying. Not at all.

"Jean, what about that plant you've been taking care of? That, er, what did you call it? A Variant? That really weird one that is super cool and is bound to attract loads and loads of customers just begging for some flowers?" Marco hit Jean's arm, and Jean nodded violently.

"Yeah! Yes! I'll go get it!" Jean turned to the stairs leading to the basement. "Oh my God! We're saved!" Jean added, with an exaggerated wink for effect, and Hanji was staring at Marco in awe while Jean ran down to get the special plant.

"She's been feeling pretty down lately," Jean was mumbling, but Hanji ignored it for the wonder that took over.

The plant was fucking awesome, and Hanji's eyes lit up in fireworks.

"What's she called?" Marco asked, trying not to sigh as Hanji profusely marveled over the plant; it's muted purples, reds, and greens; it's egg-shaped bud and thin, cookie-cutter-perfect leaves.

Jean's cheeks took on a furious shade of red now, and he clenched his jaw. "Well, er...Marco Junior." His eyes were hopeful as he looked to Marco.

Marco couldn't speak. He tried to stop himself from smiling, but Jean was looking at him shyly, embarrassed, and it was too much. Just the look on Jean's face was enough to convince Marco that he had been so wrong.

"Boys!" Hanji yelped, standing up straight with the biggest grin on her face. "Jean! Clear off that display window! Make sure there is plenty of room for that plant!"

"Yessir!" Jean said, running over and moving things around.

Hanji pulled Marco's head down, leaving a smacking kiss on his forehead and jumping for joy, hands clapping once.

"If customers are as fascinated by Marco Junior as I am--!" Hanji started, when the door opened, bell ringing. They all paused and turned to their customer.

The man was tall, a sad excuse for brown hair on his head, wearing a uniform which had two overlapping wings on the breast. His eyes were a misty emerald, and Jean felt his heart race, if only for a moment. Then the man spoke, and Jean could have sworn that he knew the guy. But if he was from Skid Row, they were bound to have seen each other at some point. The man looked hypnotized, and a little confused.

"Hi, um. So, I saw that plant in the window, and, uh, it's really cool," The man said, and Hanji's face looked like it was going to split in half. "Uh, so, yeah. I'm not sure what I was planning on doing, actually, once I got inside. Can I, you know, look at it?"

Hanji nodded, extending a hand in the direction of the plant.

"What is it?" The man asked.

"A Marco Junior," Marco said proudly, Jean taking a step closer to him.

"Huh," The man smiled. "And the species?"

Jean's eyes widened. He didn't know. "Er, it's a...Titan."

"Titan," The man echoed. "Neat. Where'd you get it?"

Jean felt a rush of words coming to his mouth, a thousand ways he could start the story. Marco had heard it more than once, had laughed at all the same parts, had watched Jean's lips curl up when he talked about the moment he saw the plant.

"Well, um. It's a bit of a story. You remember that total eclipse of the sun about a week ago?"

Jean had been riding his bike down one of the market streets uptown, looking for something exciting. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen. Maybe he'd witness a murder, maybe he'd get caught in the middle of two pretty boys and...nothing exciting was going to happen. Jean was just about to turn back around to go home, to his stupid basement bedroom that was more of a plant workshop than anything remotely close to a home.

There was a sharp whistle, and he was twisting his bike out of the way of a short man trying to shove a door stop underneath white wood and beautifully kept glass. His head hurt, and so did his entire right side. The man Jean knew as Levi Rivaille clicked his tongue, shoving out a hand for Jean to take.

Levi had a pot in his hand, with a tiny bud of a plant that looked positively awful in the middle. Concern took over Jean's features as he stared, biting his bottom lip. Levi sighed, pushing the pot into Jean's hands.

Jean looked up.

"I can't get this stubborn piece of shit to grow. Eren thought it'd be fun to get me a plant before we even thought about...dogs. To see if I'd be...you know, good. With alive things." Jean had never met Eren, but Levi talked of him frequently.

"Do you want me to take care of it so when Eren gets back from Scouting, it'll look like you did a good job?"

Levi smirked. "No, but now that you mention it," Levi seemed to change his mind. "You know, why not keep it? If you already have too many I'll--"

"No, not at all!" Jean hurried to say.

"Alright, then. It's all yours!"

They talked, and Jean put the door stop in, and Levi asked about Marco, and Jean's mood only went up from there.

Jean left shortly after, holding the plant close to his chest.

That's when the sky went dark.

There was a quick flash of light.

The sun crept back out.

The pot felt heavier.

[][][][]

The man had bought one hundred dollars worth of roses. Hanji was in tears. Marco hugged Jean excitedly, and Jean hugged back. It ended far too quickly, but Hanji had them spiffing up the shop before Jean could fix that, before he could go back to that soft, warm place he found when enclosed by Marco's arms.

Customers weren't exactly flocking in, but many people stopped in within the first hour, and then more, and more, and eventually there were more people in the shop than had ever been before.

Jean was helping Marco close the shop. Hanji had finished counting the money, and told them they were going out for dinner tonight.

Marco gasped, rushing to get his coat.

"Hm?" Jean intoned, watching Marco freak out.

"I've got a date," Marco said quickly, and Jean held back his groan.

"With that no-good son of a bitch you've somehow decided was good enough for you?" Hanji asked, eyebrows raised.

Marco blushed, anger welling up. "You may not understand, but I'm not exactly rich. He has a good job. He gets paid. He hasn't killed me yet. And until he does, you can shut your mouth about how bad he is."

Marco saw Jean's fists clench at his sides, and Marco couldn't pinpoint the feeling in his gut.

Hanji was not pleased, but she let him go. Before Marco left, he said, "Besides, he's all I've got. Goodnight, guys."

The door closed and Jean let out a heaving sigh that left him light-headed. Hanji looked over at him questioningly. Jean shrugged.

"Are we still eating out?" Jean asked, shrugging on his coat.

There was a thump by the window, and they looked over to see Marco Junior looking pale and almost dead--if it weren't for the glistening of his trap. Hanji ran over, pulling Jean with him.

"You have to fix it!" Hanji said, handing it to Jean. Jean frowned.

"I told you this morning--"

"Fix it now! We need it to be okay! Please!"

And with a final shake of Jean's shoulders, Hanji left in a flourish.

"Shit," Jean muttered.

[][][][]

Jean's basement/sort-of-home was dark and damp, filled with plants and supplies and blankets for the cold season. He cleared off a table, setting Marco Junior down and staring at it.

"What do you need?" Jean asked, as if he expected an answer. It did nothing.

Jean groaned after a few moments of silence.

"I don't know what to do!" Jean sat down at the table, turned the pot to see it at different angles. Jean was helpless. He looked at his room, and stared at the mess, thinking maybe he should clean up. Marco junior was going to die and there would never be another day like this. Jean would die by Hanji's wrath tomorrow. Marco Junior was useless to him now.

He stood, picked up the trash, took it all out to the back of the store. It was mostly wrappers and snippets of plants. Some bits of chicken wire. A few bottles of beer. An empty can of soda had been stuffed behind a bag of potting soil.

"I've tried all kinds of shit to get you grown, man," Jean said to Marco Junior, looking at her as if maybe she'd come back to life as an apology for the struggle she had put Jean through. "You never get bigger, or brighter, only paler and now, pretty much dead." Jean picked up some fallen flowers, pricking his finger. "Damn it! Gah, fuck! Roses...why are there roses on the floor, Jean?" He put his finger in his mouth, trying not to freak out about the blood.

He sucked, and it made a gross sound, but the taste of blood was new and weird, so he ignored it. He paused, and realized he heard the sound again, but more faint.

It took Jean a moment to realize it was Marco Junior, and another few to actually comprehend the situation.

Marco Junior was alive.

"What is it, girl, huh?"

The plant made that damn noise. Jean's face twisted in horror.

Jean looked at his hand, the blood dripping down his middle finger.

Jean lifted his eyes to Marco Junior, who continued to make the noise. It grew louder as Jean stepped closer.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Jean said as he lifted his hand above the plant. It's trap jumped open and shut, scaring the living hell out of Jean. He tested his pinkie, just to be sure. It didn't move. Jean mentally slapped himself, but he let some blood fall into Marco Junior from a safe distance.

The plant settled down as Jean forcefully bound up the stairs, hoping with all of his heart that the plant...did something miraculous, like grow. Or do nothing and be dead by the time Jean got back from finishing closing the shop, to let him know he must be high or severely ill.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading this. I might go in and change this beginning part up a bit as time goes on, so just...be aware that this isn't exactly my final draft.
> 
> I don't think I've ever been so involved with an attentive audience on here before, so this should be cool. Hi. Er, anyway, please feel free to point out mistakes, or to give constructive criticism. If you're a huge Little Shop fan, and you feel I haven't done it justice, I'm all ears--also, suggestions for how to make Little Shop into SNK even better? Leave 'em right down that-a-way. Or on my Tumblr. (*whispers* sherly-wirly - hit me up, bruh.)
> 
> Thanks again. I'm having lots of fun writing this work. Lots. It's gonna be awesome. I can feel it.


End file.
